


Cross-Stitch

by Askellie (NadaNine)



Series: SLAUE [15]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Brainwashing, M/M, Pining, Rape Aftermath, Soul Breaking, Unintentional Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 02:55:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16986807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/pseuds/Askellie
Summary: Papyrus seems to be avoiding everyone, and probably rightfully so since there’s a terse, foreboding cloud hanging over the entire wing that darkens perceptibly whenever Papyrus enters a room. Something angry and unforgiven is lingering, unspoken, particularly around his brother and Sans.Set in the aftermath of 'The Straw that Broke'. Paps has fucked up, and Edge is the only one who doesn't understand what everyone is so worked up about.





	Cross-Stitch

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: (Swap) Papyrus/Edge [Underswap Papyrus/Underfell Papyrus], post-soul trauma, dub-con, unrequited pining, elements of unintended mind-control/brainwashing.

Papyrus seems to be avoiding him.

Or maybe not just him, Edge thinks to himself as he prowls down the corridor on silent, predatory feet. Papyrus seems to be avoiding everyone, and probably rightfully so since there’s a terse, foreboding cloud hanging over the entire wing that darkens perceptibly whenever Papyrus enters a room. Something angry and unforgiven is lingering, unspoken, particularly around his brother and Sans. Neither skeleton has voiced any specific complaint, but it’s blatantly obvious in their hollow eyes and tense postures.

(It’s the most animated he’s seen Red since they found each other again, and Edge would be relieved if the source wasn’t causing him such persistent aggravation. The first time Papyrus inadvertently crossed their path, Red was practically spitting in fury, and bogglingly Papyrus just turned and scurried away, looking cowed and remorseful.)

It’s immensely inconvenient, because where before Edge would have happily thrown Papyrus over the nearest parapet to escape his persistent attentions, now he finds himself feeling uncomfortably bereft at his absence. Something in him feels lonely and incomplete (and angry and hurt) and he just wishes the bastard would stop being so damn elusive because his soul is aching with a restless discontent that only promises to subside when he finds his quarry.

(Doesn’t the asshole remember he told Edge that everything would be okay, that he would make everything okay, but nothing feels right and his soul hurts and damn him for not being around when Edge finally, sincerely needs him.)

Papyrus may know the corridors intimately, and have memorized every nook and cranny worth hiding in, but Edge is a diligent and patient hunter. He catches sight of a flash of orange and black heading down the back staircase, but loses the trail in the inner courtyard where a cooling cigarette butt marks the absence of its former owner. He nearly finds Papyrus again a little before lunchtime, hearing Blue’s indignant scolding echoing from the kitchens, but by the time he arrives the far door is already swinging shut, and Blue’s face is set in an uncharacteristically sullen scowl.

“You just missed him,” Blue offers, his expression tense and strangely conflicted. Edge just nods carefully and quietly backs out the way he just came, not willing to cross the threshold of Blue’s domain.

(Interactions with Blue have been awkward since…then. They don’t avoid each other, but there’s none of the easy camaraderie or Blue’s painfully sincere overtures of friendliness. The little skeleton is quiet and thoughtful; distracted.)

Tracking Papyrus isn’t proving very successful, but Edge isn’t willing to give up. He changes his tactics, settling in to wait in an alcove near the upstairs landing; a favourite haunt of Papyrus whenever he needs to take a break.

(Papyrus and Red used to find each other in the early afternoon on the east-facing window seat, trading cigarettes and horrible jokes in a comfortable tangle of bones and companionship. Edge used to feel annoyed, even jealous that sometimes Papyrus could unwind that tight knot of tension in Red that Edge’s presence seemed unable to sooth. Now he feels faintly guilty, because even if he doesn’t quite understand why he knows that he is the crux of the reason for why Red can’t stand the sight of the taller skeleton. There are no more lazy, smoke-hazed afternoons for either of them.)

Red now avoids the area like it’s plague-ridden, but as Edge had guessed, Papyrus still takes advantage of the cushioned bench and prop-able window. Edge waits a few minutes until Papyrus is truly settled, his posture unspooling and his guard lowering, before covertly emerging from his hiding spot and approaching from Papyrus’s blind-side. The other skeleton doesn’t spot him until it’s far too late. The way he freezes, sockets wide and alarmed, might have been funny once upon a time.

(Some small part of Edge still tries to insist that he hates Papyrus. Hate. Hate? Is that the right emotion? Papyrus has…hurt him? Wronged him? He tries to remember what it felt like when there was nothing but wariness and resentment festering inside him, but those ugly feelings seemed to have evaporated away, leaving a strange yearning in their place.)

“Edge,” Papyrus starts like he wants the name to be a warning, but another emotion (guilt) softens the intended effect.

“Don’t,” Edge growls when it looks like Papyrus might try to get up. Brazenly, he drops himself into the space Red used to occupy, half-across Papyrus’s lap, his long legs entangled over the other skeleton, preventing him from easily extracting himself, although he tries. Edge has to bat his reaching hands away, refusing to be moved. “Stop that.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Papyrus says lowly, like he’s afraid of it being overheard. Like it’s a secret; something intimate between just the two of them. Edge’s soul soars. He leans closer, like one would lean towards the warmth of sunlight. “Red should be taking care of you.”

Edge scoffs. “Red would like to think he knows what’s best for me, which is obviously foolish. I don’t need to be looked after.”

Papyrus gives him a look that’s achingly pitiful. Edge is torn between wanting to hit him and soaking up that attention, however unbecoming, like a sponge. For the moment, Papyrus isn’t looking at anyone but him, and all Edge’s insecurity, his melancholy, lifts away. He feels himself again; assured, independent, commanding.

“What I do need-” he begins, letting a rumbling purr warm his voice. He’s never done this before, but it shouldn’t be hard. Papyrus is always molesting him unasked, ignoring all of Edge’s complaints and attempts at resistance. Getting him to do it again should be easy. He leans forward in what he hopes is a seductive manner, one hand resting blatantly on Papyrus’s femur. “-is you.”

Annoyingly, Papyrus just stares at him like he’s grown another head. There’s none of the playfully teasing smirk, the sneaking fingers pawing their way into Edge’s rib cage. He doesn’t react at all to Edge’s cracked phalanges resting tantalisingly close to his pelvis which is…a little insulting, really. Edge lets out a frustrated sound, wondering if perhaps he’s being too subtle, and decides to just grab Papyrus by the collar of his tank-top and yank him forward.

Papyrus’s sockets manage to go even wider. “Wait-!”

His mouth collides with Edge’s with a forceful clank, cutting off whatever protest he might have wanted to make. The impact is jarring, but the pain just sparks a frisson of excitement in Edge, conjuring up memories of scratching and straining against each other. Papyrus’s parted teeth give way readily when Edge shoves his tongue between them, trying to entice something other than a stiff unwillingness to participate.

It takes a long moment, but eventually Papyrus is startled to life and shoves back against Edge’s chest. Edge purrs approvingly, tightening his hold and trying to drag Papyrus closer in a fight for dominance – a fight Edge typically loses, weakened as he is by the restriction of his collar and the implicit knowledge that Papyrus will eventually demand he submit – but this time the other doesn’t have his mouth free to issue any orders. Even when he tries to bite down on Edge’s tongue, the sharp pain just makes Edge moan, the sensation jolting the heated magic down in his groin which is already eagerly taking shape, coalescing into the shaft of his sex, already swelling with excitement and–

–PAIN. Unexpected and not even slightly arousing as Papyrus knees Edge viciously in the groin, right where his forming magic was taking shape. He lets out a yowl, losing focus enough that Papyrus manages to shove him away, but their entangled bones mean both of them end up rolling off the window seat, falling the short distance to the floor with a painful crash.

He hadn’t anticipated such a dirty, underhanded tactic. He’s reluctantly impressed, and not wholly disappointed about conceding as Papyrus savagely grabs his wrists and pins him down against the carpet. This is much more familiar to him, and despite the way his magic is throbbing in distress, his bones are still warm and very ready for the sex that always comes after this part–

–except Papyrus’s gaze isn’t full of lust and smug satisfaction. He looks pained and angry, and the taste of his magic is that of remorse and fear, not desire.

“What the fuck, Edge,” he says, his voice unnaturally shakey. “I don’t…what the hell are you doing?”

Edge stares back, puzzled. “This is what we always do.”

Papyrus shakes his head vehemently. “No, we…you don’t want this.”

A moment of awkward silence reigns in which Edge fails to figure out what Papyrus is driving at. Surely he’s joking. The magic between Edge’s legs is a little unstable from the earlier assault, but is in no way stifled or reluctant. He grinds it pointedly against Papyrus’s hip just in case he somehow misunderstood that, but doing so only makes Papyrus look uncomfortable and shift his weight to pin Edge more thoroughly.

“You don’t want this,” Papyrus repeats, like he’s trying to convince himself of that…or trying to convince Edge? Which is absurd because why would he want Edge to think that?

“Since when has that ever mattered?” Edge growls, feeling impatient and thwarted and not even thinking deeply about his words, but somehow they make Papyrus flinch. The look on the other skeleton’s face becomes even less receptive, which is the absolute opposite of what Edge wants. It feels dangerously like Papyrus is pulling away from him, like he’s going to leave, and Edge doesn’t want that – his soul doesn’t want that. He starts struggling, trying to free his hands so he can hold Papyrus in place.

(He needs Papyrus, needs everything to be okay, don’t go, don’t leave, stay stay stay-!)

“I need you,” he finally gasps, unwilling to lose this opportunity, and if he has to sacrifice his pride, so be it. Papyrus has always tried to push him to beg, so fine; Edge will beg. He begs with his sockets, allowing a small hint of his vulnerability to leak through. He begs with his spine, arching desperately against Papyrus “I need this-!”

A firm finger presses against his teeth, startling him to silence. Papyrus doesn’t look scared any longer, but he does look disappointed, or…sad? It’s a difficult emotion to read from his normally closed features.

“No you don’t,” Papyrus tells him firmly, slowly pushing away from Edge, but his steady gaze seems to lock Edge’s limbs in place. His expression softens, and he delicately cups the side of Edge’s jaw. “Hey. Everything’s going to be fine. You’re fine.”

The words are hypnotic and exactly what Edge needs to hear. The urgent heat lowers to a calming simmer. His sockets feel heavy with an exhaustion he’s been refusing to acknowledge all day. His bones go slack. His magic subsides. He’s fine, finally. This is what he needed.

The relief is so euphoric he doesn’t even notice Papyrus climbing off him, untangling himself until he’s free of Edge’s clinging grasp. The awkward pat he places on Edge’s skull only prompts a drunken, pleased murmur of sound as Edge blinks dazedly, almost too content to register Papyrus’s quiet order. “Go back to Red, okay? Just do what I tell you for once.”

There’s a hint of almost fondness beneath the exasperation in Papyrus’s tone, and that small glimmer of affection is distracting enough that it takes nearly a full minute for Edge to come back to his senses and realise that he’s suddenly very alone on the landing. Papyrus is gone. Papyrus is gone, and the beginning of an ache is starting in his chest again because not only have Edge’s advances been rejected but even though his magic isn’t as riled as before, there’s definitely some pent up tension still pooling in his pelvis that now has no viable outlet.

He scrambles to his feet, feeling cheated and outraged and immensely frustrated.

“You asshole!” he screeches at the empty landing, knowing Papyrus is probably too far away to hear it, and resenting him all the more for it.


End file.
